Tears of crimson, hearts of black
by Felidae1
Summary: The aftermath, and last chapter of this gruesome tale. Warning for graphic violence and charcter death Please R
1. Default Chapter

This is my first-no, sorry, actually, it's my _second_ Hey Arnold! fic, it's only, that I wrote the first one in German, and now have to translate it piece by piece, which will take a while. Until then, try to keep yourselves busy with this.

Actually, this fic was inspired by the title of another HA! Fic, I didn't read it, but the title inspired me: 'Here's to sadness'. 

I wrote a poem, and then added the story to it. 

It was supposed to be a one-shot, but turned out to be something bigger. If you're too lazy, to read the whole story, the first chapter will make enough sense, and if I get some kind reviews, I might even put up the rest…

Disclaimer: I don't own Hey Arnold! or any of the characters appearing in this fic. Craig Bartlett does, and I'd like to thank         

                   him for creating this funny show.

Summary: It was supposed to be 'her' special day, but he had to ruin it. And so Helga paid back in interest.

                Rather dark and sad, with a violent undertone.

Rating: I'll give this a PG13, because of disturbing scenes and violence. 

Reviews: Please, I'd like to know, if anybody would like to read the rest of this story.

                                  *******************************************              Tears of crimson, hearts of dark 

_Here's to sadness,_

_born from the start_

_A venomous viper,_

_rending my heart_

She stood perfectly still, as she stared at her father's dead body. 

Miriam kneeled next to him, her voice filling the house with wails and sobs.

Slowly, she rose her hand, the one, that held the sword, Bob had once received from one of his many business partners.

Short, slim, more of a dagger, the tanto was still lethaly sharp and pointed, it's blade flashing in bizzare contrast to the dark blood tainting the cold steel.

From far away, she heard the voice of the policeman, trying to shake her from her trance. She silently held out the sword, and placed it gingerly in his hand.

Somewhere in the distance, she could hear her mother screaming:

"It's her birthday! Please, it's her birthday, she didn't mean to, don't take her away, it's her birthday, please, Helgaaa..!"

_Here's to sadness,_

_that made me all blue,_

_and twisted my feelings,_

_until they weren't true_

She couldn't tell, when she had snapped, but she did know why. He had done something so..unbelievably blunt and mean, she just couldn't take it any more. She was used to him being ignorant and hurtful, since the only way of comunicating with her consisted of verbal assaults, neglect, and the occasional slap.

But not today.

Today should have been different, even if it would have only lasted a few hours.

He couldn't even give her that.

_Here's to sadness,_

_and eternal neglect_

_Broken promises,_

_and missing respect_

She had come down, and there he had stood, munching on a piece of her cake, compplaining, that it tasted foul, and when she asked him, what he thought he was doing, he had started shouting at her. She yelled back, and the quarrel had soon turned into an heated fight. She never even saw his hand, his fist, actually, coming, all she remembered, was the blinding sharp pain exploding in her face. She fell backwards, hit her head on the stairs, and cried out, again, as another flash of hurt raced through her brain.

Her breath escaped her with a sudden exhale, as his foot hit her stomach.

_Here's to sadness,_

_and the madness it bore,_

_the hatred it nurished, _

_and the love I deplore_

An eternity later, she rose, and stumbled up the stairs, towards her room. 

On they way, she passed the cupboard with Olga's prizes, trophies, and-Bob's souvenirs.

Her glassy eyes passed unseeing over the objects, until they came to rest on a long, dark object, that didn't seem to fit inside.

Her body moved on it's own command, as she opened the glass doors, and took the sheated blade from it's hold.

Weighing it in one hand, she dimly wondered, how well it mended into her small hand.

Leaving the door slightly ajar, she turned back towards the stairs, leaving ever so tiny driplets of blood on the floor.

_Here's to sadness,_

_that slay my soul,_

_and turned my happiness _

_into a black hole_

The last thing, she clearly remembered, was stepping in front of Bob, turning out the tv, and demanding an apology.

He had bolted from his chair, screaming about teaching her some manners-and had stopped mid-sentence, when the sword cut off his ear. With a loud yell, he had drawn back, as she told him to beg her forgiveness. Bob threatened to knock her teeth in, and lost his left hand in exchange. Again, she pointed the tanto at him, her voice cold and strange in her own ears, giving him one last chance. He didn't acknowledge it, but grabbed the popcorn bowl and threw it at her. She evaded it with the ease of years of practice, letting her own momentum carry her into his reach, only to let the blade slide across his throat, not really severing it, but cutting deep enough to draw blood. 

Panting, he fell to his knees, trying to stop the flow with his hankerchief. She walked up to him, pulled him to his feet, and, looking directly into his eyes, whispered: 

"I hate you."

She was still pulling the blade from his chest, when Miriam entered.

_Here's to sadness, _

_that rarely touched my eyes,_

_and filled all my being_

_with bittersweet lies_

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Please, I know, you probably hate me all by now, but review anyway, if you'd like to hear the rest of Helga's story. Thank you.


	2. Tender hopes

Weee, I actually got reviews-and not only one, but three

Ok, I will continue this story, as in filling the details, as to why Helga acted the way she did.

Yes, she might appear to be a little OOC, but hey, it's one of my first HA! fics, kay(I usually write X-Men fics, so sue me!).

But first, thanks to all who reviewed:

Thank, you Prof Rose Thorn, for pointing out the flaws, as in not properly warning the readers ahead. 

           I'll have to bear that one in mind.

Demoness SP, here's more. Perhaps, this might enlighten the why's to Helga's actions.

Stevie, sadly enough, I own wether Froot Loopstm nor Hey Arnold-but I can give you more of the latter!^^ 

As for the anonymous reviews, I thought, I had enabled those(grumble, mumble, me love reviews, grumble).

Disclaimer: I don't own-hey, weren't we here already? 

Reviews; Yes, please, even if they're flames.

Now, let us turn back the hands of time, and find out, what happened…

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Tender hopes 

~As always, they had forgotten her birthday, but that was something, she was used to. 

So she had decided, to throw her own birthday party, all for herself, since Phoebe, who had the flu, couldn't, and the other kids from school wouldn't, join.

She had went to see Phoebe, and bring her her homework, and Pheebs, in return, had given her a small box and an envelope, reading 'Happy Birthday, Helga' in both English and Japanese letters. Touched, Helga had given her best friend a rare hug, and promised, to come visit her everyday.

Walikng home, she tried to decipher the kanji and katakana on the envelope, when she, naturally, bumped into her secret love, Arnold. Both went down, the letter went sailing through the air, and landed on Arnold's belly.

"Whatch where you're going, football-head!" roared Helga, as she got up and dusted herself off.

Mumbling an apology, Arnold picked up the letter and read the inscription. His eyes went wide, and he stared at Helga, who was checking for scars and spots.

"You.. your birthday's today?" he asked, a guilty pang flashing through his heart. He hadn't even known, let alone, gotten a present for her. Helga scolwed at him, then tore the letter from his fingers.

"Yeah, it's my special day, so what's it to you, football-head?" she huffed.

"Uhh, nothing, I mean, congratulations Helga. Are you gonna throw a party, or something?"

For a second, a painful expression flittered across her features, but she hid it behind her trade-marked scowl, and waved off.

"Come on, birthday parties are for babies! I'm ten, I don't do 'paa-ties'!" she said, accenting the last word.

Arnold shifted uncomfortably, then reached out, shook her hand and said in his most cheerful tone:

"Anyways, a happy birthday to you, Helga, and many more to come!"

Without thinking twice, he gave her a quick peck on the cheek, blushed and scurried away.

For several seconds, Helga stood there frozen in shock, then her hand went up, to where he had kissed her.

With a loud, happy sigh, she fainted. Things couldn't get better from here.

They didn't.

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Sigh, I'm a terrible person-but don't worry, I'm not done yet.


	3. Rising expectations

Back with part two, and I hope, it will bring some understanding to Helga's actions.

I decided to make six chapters, all in all, including a small aftermath. Well, enough talk, and on with the story-oh, and many, many thanks to all of you for the kind reviews. They mean a lot to me, folks.

Disclaimer: Standard

Reviews: please, yes, anytime

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Rising expectations 

Once home, she immediately started putting up the things for her party. 

She had fetched the big, portable cooler from the cellar(luckily, she was so strong, and Phoebe had helped her), and hidden it in the living room under a tablecloth, so it looked like any other cupboard. She had gotten up early today, so she could connect and fill it with ice, now she rolled it next to Bob's favourite tv chair. 

Done, she went to get the bag she had hidden in the broom closet, and dragged it to the cooler. 

Placing the beers from the bag into the cooler, she checked the time. 

Shrieking, she hurried up and tossed the empty bag behind the couch, Miriam had passed out on.

In the kitchen everything was ready and waiting for her. 

Concentrating on the task at hand, Helga started on her birthday cake.

Twenty minutes, one failed attempt, three cooking books and eight dozen curses later, the dough-filled form was sitting in the heated oven, and Helga started cleaning up. She had just finished wiping the spilled flour from the floor, when the kitchen clock chimed, and she opened the oven. A gust of hot air rushed into her face, and she pulled her head away. 

Glancing inside the oven, she let out a quiet 'o', then put on the gloves and took out her masterpiece. 

It had exactly the right size and colour, no cracks, and it smelled-deliciously. 

She placed it on the counter, next to the window, so it could cool off, and started decorating the kitchen. 

All the decorations were from Olga's other parties, except for a large transparent, which read 'Happy 10th Birthday, Helga!'.

It had cost her the lunch and pocket money from two weeks, but she had gotten exactly the one, she had wanted: 

Pink, with blue and white letters, it even glittered a little in the dim light. 

Helga was so busy decorating she never heard the person enter, until-

"Helga, what are you doing?" asked Miriam. Gasping, Helga swerved around, and chuckling nervously, she tried to hide the balloon, she had been blowing up, behind her back.

"Err, nothing, really, it's a, ah, unh, school project, yeah" she stuttered. But her mother, for once only thirsty, and not drunk, had already read the sign, and a sad, ashamed look appeared on her face.

"Oh no, honey, I forgot again, didn't I?" 

She stepped into the kitchen, and, before Helga could react, pulled her into a warm, gentle hug. 

Not knowing, what to do, the young girl hesitantly lay her hands on Miriam's shoulder, a small, uncertain smile tugging at her lips.

"S'okay", she whispered, and Miriam pulled away from her.

"No, it's _not_ ok, it's your tenth birthday, and I didn't even remember-I didn't even get you a present!" 

Tears lingered in the corner of her eyes, and Helga felt a small tug at her heart. 

Rising from her kneeling position, Miriam tapped her lip thoughtfully, then said:

"Tell you what, Helga, first thing tomorrow after school, I'll pick you up, and then we'll spend the whole day at the mall. And for in case, I _should_ forget, here-" she rummaged through the confines of her housedress, and finally pulled out a folded note, which she handed to her daughter, "you go ahead, and have a fun day with your friends!"

Helga took the bill, opened it-and nearly fainted for the second time.

"50$?!? Mom, you-you're giving me a fifty bucks?!? Are you _crazy_??" 

She hadn't meant it to sound like that, but Miriam laughed good-heartedly.

"Well, since it would have been my responsibilty, to shop and organise, I thought, it's the least I can do-

especially, since you spent your own money on the decoratings and everything. Speaking of which, how about I finish decorating and put some icing on the cake, while you get dressed, huh?"

Helga's jaw went straight through the kitchen floor. 

Could this _really_ be happening? Miriam actually behaving like..a real mother?

"Uhh, sure, I'll finish the..decos, and all, while you..get the cake done, 'kay?" she replied, still slightly dazed.

Her mother smiled warmly, then rose and straightened.

"Very well, what would you like, a white or dark icing on your cake? " she asked, as she started rummaging through the cupboards. Helga blinked, then pulled the sachet with the icing from the fridge.

"White icing, and here's the pink letters, and-aaaaaaaarrrggghhh! I forgot the candles!" 

She pulled her ponytails in frustration. How could she have forgotten the candles, of all things? A soft hand on her shoulder gave her pause.

"That's ok," said Miriam,"I'm sure, there are some candles in the cellar or attic. Let me coat this wonderful cake, and then look for them, while you get dressed, ok?"

Helga gave a rare, happy smile to her mother, nodded, and headed for her room.

Miriam looked after her, then turned around, and, grabbing the satchel with the icing, mumbled:

"Now, let's see, I remember that you had to…"

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Wheew, that was long _and_ boring, but don't worry, things will speed up from here…


	4. Broken wings

Part three of Helga's tale. 

Thanks to all of you, for your humble opinions, reviews, and, yes, flames. There's no better way to improve one's writing but by pointing out the flaws. 

Demoness Space Pirate, I agree, Bob being abusive _is_ rare, but it happened(sure, it was usually only hinted, but still). 

Gwynn, as to where this came from? I'm not sure, I wrote the poem, and the story wrote itself. I hope, you still like it.

Disclaimer: Craig Bartlett's except the poem, that's mine

Reviews: Just a little bit more…

Archive: Sure. Just tell my where

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Broken wings 

The icing was splotchy, and not quiet smooth, but the tiny red roses an pink letters were perfectly arranged .

With a contented sigh, Miriam placed the cake in the center of the table, set two plates, forks and glasses on each side and added a bottle of non-alcoholic champagne to the picture.

"Very well. Now to find those candles," she rummaged through the drawers, until she found a torch,"I'm sure, I'll be able to find ten similar ones." With that, she headed for the cellar.

Having finished showering and shampooing, Helga stepped out of the bathroom, and attended to the task of blow-drying her hair.

Everything was set and ready, and once Bob came home in-she checked the clock-forty-eight minutes, she would steer him into his favourite tv chair, hinting at the 'The Wheel' marathon, then bring him the newspaper, slippers and snacks, ensuring, he would not move from his seat for the next three hours. 

More than enough time, for her and her mother to celebrate her birthday.

Plus, there was enough beer in the cooler to take him out for the night, if need be. 

This would probably be the best birthday party she ever had.

"Miriam, I'm home!" bellowed Big Bob Pataki, as he entered.

He frowned, when he got no reply.

"What the hell is going on here," he growled,"all lights on, and nobody home? Wasting my hard-earned money again, huh?"

His hat and briefcase went sailing on the cupboard, followed by his coat, as he made his way into the darkened kitchen.

"Miriam! Where the heck is that wo-what _is_ this?" he yelled, as his hand got caught in the banner hanging from the ceiling.

With an angry snarl, he tore it down, ripping it apart, even as his other hand found the light switch.

Blinking, he let his eyes roam the kitchen, then let them rest on the table.

"Oh well, at least there's a decent snack", he mumbled, as he stepped closer and reached or the knife.

His thick fingers brushed the envelope sitting next to a tiny box on one of the plates. Picking it up, he tried to decipher the words, but gave up, as his stomach started rumbling, and tossed the letter carelessly into a corner.

°

Golden hairs flowed down in soft, shimmering curls, framing a slightly flushed, smiling face. 

Wearing her best blue, white-trimmed dress with the big pink bow on the back, Helga practically floated down the stairs-

and stopped dead in her tracks, when she saw Bob stepping out of the kitchen, with what appeared to be at least half of her birthday cake in his hands, and the remains of her transparent clinging to his left ankle.

She watched in mute horror, as he bit off a big chunk of the sweet bakery, and tried to shake off the banner.

He saw her moving out of the corner of his eye, and ordered:

"Oh, Olga, good you're here, help me got off this annoying thing off my foot, will ya?"

Taking the last few steps down, she hushed: 

"What do you think, you're doing, Bob?" 

Frowning, he looked at her pale face, and roared:

"Hey, I'm trying not to choke on this piece of sugar-coated brimstone, what's it look like to you, Missy?" Glaring, she hissed:

"Well, it looks to me like you just ripped apart the banner I've been saving all my pocket money for, since none of you even remembered, that it's _my birthday today_! And why the hell are you eating my BIRTHDAY CAKE? Couldn't you at least wait, until I had blown out the candles?You insensitive, arrogant bastard! Everything was perfect, but you had to ruin it, like always, didn't you?!?" 

Below, behind the closed cellar door, Miriam rummaged through different boxes and cartons. The noise she made, among with the closed door, swallowed every sound coming from upstairs.

Bob's jaw fell for all of two seconds, but his anger immediately caught up with him, and he yelled:

"How dare you speak like that to me, you little-"

"No, how dare _you_ go and ruin my birthday party, the one _I_ had to organize and prepare_ myself_, because you're so busy selling those bloody beepers of yours, you don't even remember my name! Why, can't you, just for once in my life, do something for me, instead of throwing stones in my way?" Helga was close to crying but couldn't care less.

"And who do you think, gave you all the money to prepare this, huh? You better be grateful, I even let you and your little friends make a party in my house, you ungrateful brat!" screamed Bob, unconciously clenching his fists, causing the cake to crumble to the floor. 

"What friends? I don't have any friends, except for Phoebe, and even she wouldn't come, because they all hate and despise you just as much as I do!" Bob drew a quick breath, then growled between clenched teeth:

"What do you mean, they-"

"That's right, Bob! Everybody and their mother hates you! You're selfish, ignorant, careless, stupi-"

WHACK!

His fist caught her dead in the face, causing her to stumble and fall backwards, screaming in pain. Her head hit the rim of the stairs, and another cry escaped her, as she felt the skin of her scalp torn open.

Sobbing, she held her head, dimly aware of Bob's gravely voice above her.

"If you ever use that tone on me, I'll send you to boot camp."

She saw the foot heading for her, but all she could do, was, to protect her face with her arms.

Hurt exploded in her stomach, cursed through her body and numbed all her senses.

"Get up, and clear the mess you left, girl."

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And another endless chapter finished. Only two more to go. Please remember to review, thanks.


	5. Tempered souls

Ok, I received several reviews, from people, who seemed to be rather concerned about the violence and bloodshed in this little fic. I'm sorry, if I left anyone of you with a queasy feeling, but as I said before, the story wrote itself, once the poem was sketched. No, I'm not trying to blame this on my muse, or something, but sometimes..a story needs to be told. And I couldn't have Helga kill her father, without a good reason. Yes, I do realize, doing so because of a ruined birthday, might _appear_ to be rather childish, but bear in mind, that Helga is exactly that: 

A lonely, scared, ten years old girl, who's father's only way of communicating with her consisted of verbal and physical abuse, neglect and indifference. Basically, all of her negative feelings had pent up, and if it had been any other day, she would have probably swallowed it down as so many times before. The fact, that it was her _birthday, _was what set of the tragic events.

Thusly explained, I still hope, you like the story…there is one more chapter coming after this one.

Oh, and thanks to all of you, who reviewed. It's always appreciated.

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Tempered souls 

Sobs whacked her thin, lean frame.

Everything hurt, her stomach, her face, her head, but none of them as much as her heart.

Silent tears streamed down her pale cheeks, caressing the bruise on her left.

Finally, hesitantly, she got up, and snuck up the stairs, stopping on every second step, to catch her breath.

Her head swirled, her thoughts tumbling like dice in a cup. But the only question that always came upfront, was:

Why? Why did he had to hurt her so much? Why did he hate, despise her? Why couldn't he just..accept her, or at least, leave her be? Why couldn't he just..see her, for what she was? A scared, lonely little girl, who only wanted to be loved? 

Huffing, she stumbled through the corridor, past the pictures and proofs of her perfect sister's past.

She paused at the large 'shrine' as she had dubbed it, and her dazed glance flew across all the things, which proofed, how much her father loved Olga, and his work. Something disturbed her, though, something didn't seem to belong here.

Blinking away tears, she saw it:

A present from his japanese business partner, Makoto Hasegawa*, the tanto appeared to be as lost and misplaced as herself.

It seemed to call out to her, and her hand reached out on it's own volition, touching the dark, warm wood of the sheet.

Like a extention of her own arm, it seemed to flow into her hand, sending tiny jolts of electricity down her spine.

It seemd to have been made for her.

Helga pushed the door half-closed, and turned back towards the stairs, decided to righten the wrongs done to her.

Blodd dribbled down her neck, soaked her dress and left smal trinklets on the floor.

Bob was sprawled lazily in his favourite chair, when she entered. Walking calmly towards the TV, Helga never cared to look at him. Instead, she turned the on/off knob, quenching the moderator's comment.

"Hey! What the heck do you think, you're doing, Olga?!?" shouted Bob angrily.

Instead of an answer, Helga pulled the sword from it's sheet, and pointed it at her father.

"You are going to apologize, right know, or you are going to regret it." She couldn't feel her tongue moving, or her lips forming the words, but she must have said something, because Bob stared at her in utter dispelief. Then his face turned into an deep, almost purplish read, as he shot up from his chair and screamed:

"You insane, crazy little brat! How dare you threaten me in my own house?  I swear, this time I'm gonna teach you a lesson you'll never forget. I tried to knock some sense of manners into you, but you -"

In a single, blinding arc the blade glid through the gristle of the earshell, cutting it off neatly. A choke escaped Bob, and then he screamed in pain, as he held the bleeding wound.

"I'm still waiting for that apology, Bob" she hissed, as she drew away from him.

Needless to say, he was now seething in hate, his fist pulled back, aiming for her face, and Helga only barely managed to move out of the way. The blow still struck her slightly, nicking her skin and bruising her cheekbone. For a second, her sight was blurred, and when she could see clear again, Bob stood there, gagging, as he held the stump, that used to be his left hand. 

A slight tingle had started in the back of her head, as the wound, which had clogged up, broke open again. 

The slow, but continuos seep of blood made her somewhat lightheaded, but her arm, holding the tanto, didn't even quiver, when she aimed towards her father. A strange, choked sound escaped her throath, and she recognized it dimly as her own voice, saying coldly:

"This is your very last chance, old man. Say that you are sorry, for everything you ever did to me, and we might try to start all over again. Make a new beginning." 

Bob's answer consisted of a snarled curse, as he grabbed the empty popcorn bowl, and tried in vain, to connect it with her skull. It hit the empty air, as she swiftly danced out of harm's way. The cold steel flashed across Bob's throath, as he made an attempt to rip it from her hold. It was a bad aim, for it slipped through his adam's apple, leaving him void of speech and breath.

Collapsing to his knees, he searched his pockets for his handkerchief, pressing it on the gaping hole.

Small, white-clad feet stepped into his vision, then an equally small, cold, sweaty hand grabbed his shoulder and forced him upwards with amazing strength. Bob's eyes searched for Helga's, and widened in realization and terror, when he saw the pain and darkness reflected in them.

From far away, he could hear her whisper:

"I hate you", and then a blinding, white pain exploded in his chest, before he was thrown into the abyss.__

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*With a nod to my ex-neighbour and friend-ganbatte kudasai, Mayumi-san!


	6. Tomorrow may bring gladnessor a little b...

Well, my dears, this is it. The final chapter of my first HA! fic. I hope, you enjoyed the story despite it's rather dark and angsty content. 

I would hereby like to thank all reviewers(and readers), who pointed out the flaws in my story, this shows me, that you really pay attention.

This last part of my story is an aftermath of sorts, since I always have this 'urge, to tie up loose threads'. Hope, nobody ridicules me for this…

Until I see you in one of my other fics, I hope, you all fare well and have a good time

Felidae

Warning: this last chapter is as long as it's title…

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_Tomorrow may bring gladness(or a little bit of sadness)___

It had taken eight weeks for the fracture in her scull to heal completely. 

She still had returning headaches, due to the concussion she had suffered, wich, given the time, would subside.

But there was nothing, that could heal Big Bob's wound. As the autopsy revealed, Robert Pataki was dead, by the time his body hit the floor.

Even without the tanto piercing his heart, he would have died, before the ambulance would have arrived. 

He had lost too much blood, Helga's final stroke had only quickened the process.

Miriam had broken down on the scene, screaming both her daughter's and husband's names. She had to been sedated by force, and had been under surveillance 24/7 the first two weeks.

Olga, once she had received the news, had been totally devastated. Without thinking, she had called in sick and taken the next flight out of Alaska. Storming into the hall of the hospital, she had tossed the suitcase she carried into a corner and demanded to see her father's body, aswell as her mother and sister.

Miriam had been asleep, her face slack and ashen, never responding to any of Olga's pleas and calls.

Agitated, she rushed to her sister's room, wanting to take out all her anger and pain on her little sister.

However, she stopped cold, when she saw the bandages wrapped around Helga's torso and belly, the thirteen stiches on the shaved, fuzzy scalp, and her swollen, bruised face with the black eye.

But what made her choke on her words was the cold, empty stare in the younger girl's eyes.

Less than two minutes later, Olga was out the door and followed the doctor down to the morgue.

Silently, she waited until the doctor had left, then walked up to Bob's corpse, and kneeling down beside the stretcher, sobbed:

"How could you? Oh, god, how-how _could_ you? She's just a child, daddy, just a little girl…" 

Olga spent the rest of the day crying next to her dead father.

_~*five months later_

She knew, it would be hard.

Dr. Bliss had told her, and Helga knew, she was right.

That she did not appreciate the idea, of Helga returning to her old school, was something she had also made quiet clear.

But Helga was not to be turned around, though she had stopped fighting, arguing, quarreling. 

She had found a better way to persue her desires. Whenever she met resistance, she would return into that small, dark place inside her mind, and nobody could take that vast, unseeing gaze without growing desperately uncomfortable.

So, here she was, walking down the halls of P.S. 118 in a numb haze.

The pupils, teachers, staff, everybody was whispering behind her back, although an eerie silence seemed to engulf her.

Dr. Bliss accompanied her, her presence giving Helga the needed strength and support, to walk this hardest of paths.

It was not only the serene, emtpy look on her features, which caused a ruckus, but also her appearance had changed:

Gone were her pigtails, instead, a short, hip bobby framed her face. Her pink dress and white shirt had been replaced by a deep blue sweater and equally dark, purple pants. Black sneakers completed the picture. 

And nobody could help but wonder, if they would ever see Helga Pataki again.

Time went on, and as it did, slowly, but surely, people started to grow accustomed to the new Helga.

Her former friends(as it were), namely Phoebe, Arnold, and, last but not least, Gerald, had found ways to break through the walls of ice she had errected around her heart and soul.

Kids like Harold, who had thought, the quiet, reserved Helga had become a push-over, were painfully reminded, that Betsy and the Five Avengers were still on duty, and as fast as ever. 

But she rarely needed to show or even use them. 

A sinlge look into the azure abyss of her eyes made even sixth-graders empty Gerald field in double-time.

This is also where nine months later, Gerald dared to ask the 'unthinkable' question:

"Hey Helga, why did you do it? I mean, I heard, you took this japanese sword and just stabbed him, but no one knows, why!"

A collective gasp was heard, as everybody scurried as far away from Gerald as possible. 

Gerald's mind caught up with his mouth a split-second later, as he clasped both hands over it.

For a while, Helga regarded him with that cold, unseeing stare, then replied calmly:

"He forgot my birthday, ate my cake, and beat me up. End of story."

She rose and went towards the new appartment she shared with her mother.

The children gathered stared after her, before exchanging looks and nodding in silent agreement.

They would never forget Helga's birthday.

Ever.

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

Oh, on a short note: many may wonder, what a _tanto_ is. I'll try to explain this with the little knowledge I have about it.

Most of you probably know it's larger sibling, the _katana_.

Whereas the katana,(a slender-bladed sword of varying size) was normally used for fighting, or, depending on it's worth and status, as heritage, the _tanto_(rather a long, pointed knife in comparison), was normally used to restore one's honor(being _usually_ a samurai, a warrior, or the like), by committing _seppuku_(_harakiri_):

Whilst keeling in front of a small altar, the dishonored one would use the tanto to disembowel himself, and then (preferably) his own katana would be used to cut off his head. The beheading would usually be done by a family member, or a trusted person.

Well, so far to the grisly background of the tanto. If anybody has closer details, drop me a line, so I can correct my misassumptions. 

Arigato!


End file.
